Cat's Cradle
by GwendolynnFiction
Summary: When Spiderman witnesses Deadpool spend five hours rescuing a kitten from an air conditioning unit, he's forced to second guess his assumptions about the man...and maybe make a friend.


"Itsy bitsy Deadpool climbed up the water spout, down came Luke Cage and punched Deadpool out," Wade sang as he reached the roof of the Museum of Natural History's back office building. He'd gotten past the decorative castle wall and its security in less than five minutes and he hadn't even needed to assault anyone. So far so disappointing. He wouldn't have taken this job if he knew UPS would be just as effective. Hopefully the theft would start to get tricky once he got into the building. He paused, halfway through heaving himself over the concrete ledge, his legs dangling. "Wait, that's not flattering."

{Do you think anyone will know who Luke Cage is?}

[I don't. I only watched the movies.]

Wade gasped, horrified.

"Luke Cage isn't in the movies?" He slid forward, letting his body scrape against the concrete as he flopped onto the roof. "Out Netflix came and made bank on his name and the Itsy Bitsy Deadpool climbed up the spout again," he sang, brushing dust off his suit as he stood up.

{That made no sense}

[You're about to get kicked in the head.]

Wade looked up just in time to see a red boot smash into his face. He caught himself, stepping backwards rapidly until he felt his heel touch the low wall behind him. Not a splendid time to catapult himself off the roof, he reflected, rebalancing.

"Ow," he complained, pushing at the spongey- crinkly feeling in his nose. Spiderman landed on the opposite side of the roof, crouched on his toes in his favorite Spidey-fashion. Wade thought he should start crouching like that whenever he had the chance – it showed off Spidey's package fabulously. "Okay, what just happened?" he asked, trying to mold his nose back into a nose shape before it healed. Spiderman stood up, his hands up and ready to fight.

"You're here to steal the Mullinan diamond while it's being moved," Spiderman accused.

"Oh, right!" Wade perked up. That explained why he'd wanted to go down through the back of the building. He'd been paid to steal a couple of pearl chains as well but he didn't think Spiderman cared about the details. That wasn't the important part of this. "Did you know the Itsy Bitsy Spider had other verses?"

Spiderman shifted to better cover the door to the stairs behind him.

"What?" he asked, sounding baffled. And annoyed.

"I know. Carly Simon right? Love her. 'You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht," he sang as he danced forward, trying to keep at least one eye looking off to his side. That was in the lyrics somewhere. Spiderman held up his hands.

"I don't want to fight you, Deadpool," he growled, tensing – bad form really, to tense before an unknown movement.

"You know what I don't get? You don't carry weapons," Wade replied curiously, sliding a katana from its holster and continuing forward. "I mean, you put yourself in a lot of fights for a guy who goes unarmed – or is it you go very unarmed for -"

Spiderman shot a fast bolt of spidey-string at him and Wade cut it out of the air.

{Fight! Fight! Fight!}

He dodged a kick to his head and stepped backwards.

"No, no, you're right," he said, his hands up in surrender. "Itsy Bitsy Spider had no place in that song. Bad Carly! Worst mash-up since Kanye West and Paul McCartney," he admitted.

"Ha. Ha. Haha. Hahahahaha," Spiderman faked a laugh, matching his tone to Kanye's at the beginning of the track and Wade stopped short, earning a punch to the stomach. He tightened his muscles in time to take the punch and punched back, almost forgetting about the katana held in that hand until he had to twist to avoid skewering his opponent.

 _Whoopsidaisies_

Spiderman dodged, with inches to spare.

[He caught that?]

"Anyway, 'Only One' came out after 'Coming Around Again'." Spiderman corrected him. Wade let a punch come through, taking it straight in the healed nose. He shook it off, glad for the pain. He probably wasn't dreaming. This was so much better than dreaming!

"Heeey, reference caught. Who says we can't be friends?" he cooed, blocking a punch with his arm and earning another to his head faster than he could see it. The punch landed hard and Wade fell to one knee.

"Sure, just walk away from stealing, killing, and maiming innocents for no reason," Spiderman snarled.

{Really?}

"Really?" Wade asked, tilting his head at the proposition. He slid his katana back into its sheath.

{We can't stop killing!}

"Well, I mean, I gotta finish this job. That's like professionalism," he argued with Yellow, standing up and taking another hit. Spiderman was _fast_. His attacks were amateur and predictable but he was strong and quick enough to get away with it. He had a seemingly supernatural way of foreseeing his opponent's next movement, given how seamlessly he dodged and recovered. Given that he could shoot spider snot out of his arms, it was probably a mutant thing.

"Shouldn't webs come out of your ass? Anatomically speaking," he asked and Spidey hesitated. Wade threw his knife at the man's chest and punched in the direction he thought Spidey would dodge. He caught Spiderman in the nuts with a closed fist and the man folded in pain. Wade pulled back, not wanting to go in for the kill -not with Spidey!

"It's my fist in his box!" he crowed, stepping back and throwing out a leg in a quick dance. "My fist in your boox, babe," he sang and Spidey pulled himself back up to his feet.

 _Tough guy,_ Wade noted. He waited until Spidey came after him this time and enjoyed how the man hit harder, moved faster.

 _He's been holding back too_ , Wade thought, feeling all warm and fuzzy at the thought as Spiderman's fist landed on his teeth.

{We are totally friends!}

[Wait, so why are we fighting again?]

Wade blinked, barely dodging Spiderman's attacks and returning them mostly by muscle memory as he tried to recall why they were punching each other.

"Super important question," Wade asked, holding up a finger for emphasis and earning a kick to the head. Spiderman could _jump._ Wade listened to the ringing in his ears, wondering if it was one of those catchy jingles, but it was just normal ringing. Boring. At least the webbed superhero landed on the ground in a dramatic crouch and waited for him to speak. "Do you know who Luke Cage is?"

Spiderman stared at him blankly. Of course, any superhero's face would be blank, mask and all, but Spiderman managed to be more mask-y. Deadpool tried to imitate it, keeping his face as still as possible.

[He doesn't know]

"Really? No? Hero for Hire – paid to kidnap you?" Wade prompted, cocking his head.

[Unless that hasn't happened yet.]

"Good point. Which universe is this anyway?" Wade asked and Spiderman stood up slowly, crossing his arms. Deadpool shrugged. "Alright. Yellow's right – nobody got that joke. Anyhoo..am I mad at you?" he asked Spidey but the man only took the opportunity to break his nose again.

"Youchee!" he yelped and Spiderman kicked him in the chest, shoving him back from the museum stairs.

{Sexy}

"Oh, you're right and look at his ass!" Wade agreed, tilting to the side to try to see around Spiderman's crotch. Spiderman flipped him off and Wade ran a hand down the bloodstained spandex on his scarred chest.

"Oooh, yes please," he cooed, only to catch himself. "Unless that was an instruction to fuck myself. It's really unclear. Oh noes! Kitty!" Wade froze, his hands coming up to smack his cheeks. Spiderman's kick landed hard. He'd expected him to dodge, Wade realized, blowing Spidey a kiss as he went flying, skidding on his back over the rooftop, blood flowing into his mouth even before he hit the concrete parapet.

~~/~~

Deadpool was up and coming before Peter had regained his balance but to his surprise Deadpool wasn't running back into the fistfight. Instead he was racing across the roof, his attention wholly turned from his mission. Peter stayed posed to battle, unsure what to do with the abruptly cancelled fight. Deadpool squatted on the ground and held out a hand in supplication at the large air-conditioning unit mounted to the building's roof. Peter slid his hands down his hips, a nervous gesture picked up from expecting to push his hands into nonexistent pockets. Finally he decided to squat down as well, staying on his toes in case he needed a quick escape, to try and see what Deadpool was making little kissy noises at.

There was nothing there.

 _What the hell?_

Finally Peter laid down on his stomach, just curious enough to risk a ruse, but he saw nothing. Only the grimy underside of a refrigeration unit. Finally, when Deadpool paused in keening at the machine long enough to breathe, he heard faint scratches coming from inside the unit's metal frame.

"It's probably a rat," he commented. His suit was dusted with grime sticking to Deadpool's drying blood. "Ew," he added but Deadpool was back to cooing at the hidden animal. Peter checked his watch. 11:30 PM - the diamond would be resecured by midnight. At least it didn't look like he would have to spend that half hour fighting an invincible mercenary, he figured. That had been shaping up to be a pretty bad evening.

He was fairly certain Deadpool had been taking it easy on him. He'd watched the mercenary fight before, albeit always from a distance, and the man was merciless. Fast, wild, and almost always deadly. Peter had wished sincerely for some kind of backup to call when Deadpool had poked his head above the building's parapet. Iron Man apparently found it sufficient to point out the allied mercenary during a calm break in their fight with Venom a year before and mutter "Avoid that guy. He's a madman. He kills people. Way worse than me, though. Totally a bad guy. Mostly." and fly off without another word. Or a damned cellphone number for a spare Avenger to call if the so-called madman was ever to show up again.

To his shame, Peter had thought about running. It was well known Deadpool could never die - what idiot would fight him? But the museum had asked for Spiderman's help and Peter had already let down his friends to keep Spiderman active - so he'd done something stupid and decided to use the element of surprise while he had it and kick Deadpool in the head.

He'd felt the crunch as cartilage gave way and had jumped as far away as possible, already wary of what the reprisal would be. His fear had skyrocketed seeing Deadpool pull a katana into his hand, so very calmly talking about how obviously unarmed Peter remained. And yet he'd gotten in hit after hit and he'd felt so accomplished - until the mercenary had somehow gotten past his Spider sense. As far as Peter could tell he'd dodged _into_ the man's attack, practically shoving his nuts in front of the mercenary's fist, and he'd gone down. And afterward Peter had still been able to land hit after hit. He'd only then started to think Deadpool was just playing with him, his katana held in his hand like an unwieldy stick, never even pointed at him. Now that katana was safely back in its sheath, the mercenary's wounds likely all healed, and it was starting to dawn on Peter that he'd attacked the man relatively unprovoked and was maybe only alive because the mercenary had focused on swapping references with him and not on killing him.

Perhaps not, Peter thought, perhaps he had held his own against the mercenary…but Peter was still feeling a dull ache in his balls and Deadpool had only landed the one blow despite clearly being able to do so. And he'd never used the weapon he'd pulled. Nor any of his guns, Peter realized now that he could see them strapped to the mercenary's hips.

Peter lay on the filthy roof, feeling like a child, watching the man who'd out-fought him try to coax a rat from an air conditioning unit. He hadn't used his spider silk either, he remembered. He could have tied the mercenary up, then defeat him - if the man wasn't able to cut it all out of the air. He sighed, doubting himself.

"You alright there, Baby Boy?" Deadpool asked, his voice deep and calm, different from how he'd sounded before. Peter felt something flutter in his chest, a bit of attraction he definitely didn't need to be feeling toward a masked gunman that spent most of his time covered in blood. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said and checked his watch again. Fifteen minutes of berating himself for fighting Deadpool gone and fifteen minutes to go. Hell. "So… got any hobbies?" he asked and Deadpool's body tightened, the muscles in his back tensing against his leather suit, like he'd just been threatened.

"Say again?" he asked, his voice taut. Peter pushed his hands flat on the ground, preparing to shove himself off the ground and over the roof edge if he had to run like hell.

"Uh…small talk, small talk, small talk?" he tried, his voice cracking unpleasantly. He wanted to groan at the sound. Hell, he was twenty five! And he wasn't that scared.

"Well, that's not my fault," Deadpool growled senselessly.

 _Okay…_ Peter wished he could just abandon the dumb diamond and go to bed. Deadpool looked well and fully consumed by his 'kitty'. Instead he waited, cursing himself for being responsible, while Deadpool muttered to himself, slowly proving Iron Man's point; the man really was insane.

"I knit!" Deadpool shouted finally, only to cringe and stare back at the air conditioning unit in mournful horror. "I knit," he whispered, almost just as loudly.

"You…knit?" Peter repeated, struggling to picture it. The man in front of him was huge - taller than him by at least six inches and built like a brick. Hardly the image of the soft-hearted geeky man he imagined discussing the relative merits of textiles.

"That's a hobby!" Deadpool growled defensively. "I will shoot you in my head," he threatened, but his head was tilted and he seemed to be talking to himself. "I play video games and shoot people with bananas," he added.

"Donkey Kong or Mario Kart?" Peter asked reflexively and the mercenary's face lit up, his smile obvious even through his thick mask.

"Donkey Kong doesn't throw bananas," Deadpool protested and Peter shook his head.

"Fine, Diddy Kong," he accepted and Deadpool still looked unconvinced. "In Supersmash it's his special move," he explained and Deadpool grunted.

"Never existed," he contended, moving his hand toward his gun. Peter laughed. Harry had maintained the same standpoint.

"Mario Kart, then?" he asked.

"I make a beautiful Princess Peach," Deadpool boasted, throwing out a hand as if to show off his nails. Peter rolled his eyes.

"Who doesn't?" he joked and Deadpool sighed mournfully.

"Thor. It's the shoulders," he complained, shaking his head as if the god had let him down. Peter chuckled, enjoying the image of the thunderous god trying to drive a kart around Bowser's Castle. Deadpool returned to his rat coaxing and the conversation stalled.

"What do you knit?" Peter asked.

"MLP plushies, mostly," Deadpool replied easily. He shoved a hand down his leather pants. Peter gawked, ready to protest at any sign of jerking, only to recoil at the sound of ripping as the man tore a piece of fabric seemingly out of his ass. It was a strip of his boxers, Peter recognized with a grimace. There were little Avenger caricatures printed on the cloth, all fighting in different directions. Deadpool made it twitch in front of the air conditioner, to no effect.

"What's MLP?" Peter asked, hoping the conversation wasn't dying. Between graduate school and his job at Stark Industries, it'd been far too long since he'd spoken about anything that wasn't chemistry. Worse, his classmates seemed so much younger than him and his colleagues so much older. Deadpool talked like someone his age, with his kind of geekiness…except that apparently the intense-sounding MLP was in fact My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and Deadpool saw no reason to avoid listing the character traits of every single pony in detail. Peter decided to let him finish. He had nothing to say, he was a captive audience and - pathetic or not - it just felt good to listen to a person be happily excited about something.

"And then there's Maud Pie, an apathetic but physically incredible - he's still listening?" Deadpool cut off finally.

"Maud Pie, I'm with you," Peter replied, pulling his head up from where it rested on his arms.

"My god, why?" Deadpool asked, sounding appalled, and Peter laughed.

"I'm very lonely," he joked. It came out a bit more bitter than he'd intended. Quite a bit too honest. "And my Aunt tells me I shouldn't interrupt people," he added.

 _That probably only applies to people who stop talking,_ he thought but didn't say, thinking Deadpool might actually get hurt by that. The thought landed uncomfortably, given how many times he'd ignored the Avengers happily deriding the mercenary whenever he popped up. He had a feeling Aunt May wouldn't approve of cruelty toward anyone, regardless of what they might deserve. Peter checked his watch again. 12:11. He'd stayed late, listening to the man.

 _Uh... I guess I'll go home._ It was past time for the diamond to be secured in the museum's laboratory.

"Oof, gotta go. We'll pick up at Maud Pie, next time," he promised. Deadpool peered at him. The large black triangles stretched over his mask's eyeholes made him look beseeching, when he stared that way. "Well…goodnight," Peter tossed out as casually as he could, backing up toward the roof's edge. Deadpool watched him for a long moment more before returning to his vigil.

 _Oookay._ Peter swung his way off the roof. The sky was darkening quickly now, thick with clouds. He was grateful for the abrupt end to their fight. He could smell the storm building in the air. He hated fighting in the rain. His suit chafed when it got wet and it took at least three minutes to peel the sticky thing from his body afterwards - an excruciating process if he was injured. Far better that Deadpool get distracted by a city rat and let him go home.

It hadn't felt particularly heroic to fight the mercenary anyway, he reflected as he swung through the darkening city. He'd talked to himself and seemed constantly confused. Iron Man had definitely been right on the money about that. Deadpool was legitimately mentally ill. Peter sighed, resting on the side of a skyscraper as that thought sank in. Suddenly he didn't feel heroic at all about punching the guy.

"Shit," he muttered, sending off another burst of string to hit the building opposite and swinging down after it. He'd have to apologize the next time he saw the man. And there was no way he was going to make it home before the rain.

 _Dammit._

~~/~~

He woke up that night to the roll of thunder. The air in his apartment felt like it was lying in wait. He blinked up at the ceiling, tension ratcheting down his spine. Rain battered against the glass, sounding like clattering rocks against his only window. Peter sat up, giving up on getting back to sleep. Lightening flashed, lighting up the research books scattered over his floor and blinding him. He blinked heavily and turned on the light to get his eyes adjusted before the room flashed again. The thunder reverberated in his ribs and he groaned, mourning his lost sleep. He had class in five hours.

 _Well,_ he thought, staring forlornly at the limp Spiderman costume draped over his desk chair – at least he had extra suits now. And he'd take the evening off, he promised himself, dragging his feet out from under the warm covers. No grad school, no work, no Spiderman. Just Imgur and porn or...something.

 _Oh isn't that uplifting._

He dragged himself to his closet, pulled on a fresh uniform, glanced morosely at his umbrella, and squeezed himself out of his window and into the rain.

He pulled two homeless men away from a third without a notion what the fight was about and escorted a half dozen nervous people home through ugly neighborhoods, keeping vaguely out of sight among the high-rises. It was a quiet night, his police radio chirping codes for noise complaints and domestic disputes. He almost swung straight past the Natural History Museum when he came to it but curiosity had him pause. He landed on the building across from the museum to stare at the its roof, wondering. He remembered Deadpool sitting on the rooftop, apparently oblivious to the passing time.

He spent a few minutes scanning the museum for the security cameras, walking guards and alarms, but just like the night before, there was very little securing the building's grounds. He swung past a camera as fast as he could and began to climb up the wall in its blindspot. It was limited what old-fashioned electronic security measures could do against superpowers. The wall was slick with flowing rain, already darkening the stone's mortar lines. Peter felt his hand start to slip, his body already thirty feet above the ground and he rushed upward.

He pulled himself up the roof's parapet, feeling like a fool and expecting to be faced with a whole damp rooftop of nothing for his trouble.

Instead, his head popped up to see Deadpool sitting with his legs stretched out in a puddle beside the air-conditioning unit, his costume soaked through and stuck against his skin. He was holding a taco straight out over his knee, his arm quivering with the effort. Tiny bits of meat, lettuce, and taco shell were floating in the standing water, making a little trail up to Deadpool's waiting hand. A technique that was actually working, Peter realized, noticing the soaked, shivering kitten huddling just out from under the air conditioning unit, its blue eyes riveted to the clump of meat floating just out of reach.

He started to pull himself up and over the wall but the cat jerked and scurried back out of sight under the unit.

"Shit, sorry," Peter whispered, freezing where he was. Deadpool whipped his head around, apparently picking up the words over the hammering rain. The mercenary stared at him, his neck twisted on his body at an unnatural angle, like a huge red and black owl holding a taco.

"It's my cat first. I found it," Deadpool declared petulantly, as if he expected Peter to steal it. The mercenary was an attractive mix of menacing and cute, Peter thought, watching rain water drip off down the man's muscled arms and chest. He was sitting like a toddler, his legs flat in front of him, and he'd apparently spent hours doing so. Peter checked his watch. Five hours. "Well of course, I know that," Deadpool growled, cocking his head. "I can't kill everyone that pities me."

Peter blinked.

"Erm..." he started and Deadpool shook his head rapidly, like he was tossing a thought from his brain.

"'Cause then who would pay me? Ka-duh."

Mentally ill. Right. Peter cleared his throat.

"Anyway... have you been out here the whole time?" he asked.

"Yes," Deadpool answered, his neck still straining around to look at him. Peter frowned. Something didn't add up about that.

"You just carry around tacos?" he asked, scanning the man's suit. His belt certainly had enough pouches and random loops but.. "Where were you keeping them?"

He had no idea how Deadpool managed to leer with just the smallest tilt of his head, his expression wiped featureless behind the unmoving mask.

"Oh wouldn't you want to know," he drawled and Peter raised his eyebrows. There weren't many obscene answers to that innuendo he hadn't already considered, he realized, and decided to bite.

"I did ask," he commented and Deadpool cocked his head, looking confused for a moment, maybe needing to backtrack to the original question.

"Oh! I got tacos!" he exclaimed like he'd just realized it himself. Peter nodded, unsure what to say to that. That wasn't really a conversation topic. Somehow he'd ended up clinging to the top of a soaked museum wall, getting wetter, attemping small talk with Deadpool again. That was definitely beyond the scope of his social skills. Deadpool remained twisted around and staring at him and Peter had just started lowering himself down to escape the situation when the kitten pushed its nose out into the rain, effectively trapping him. He settled his feet stronger against the flat rock face and the kitten froze, one tiny wet paw held in the air and dripping.

"Well that was adorable," Deadpool commented, though there was no way he could see the cautious animal. He was staring straight at where Peter hung motionless, only his head lifted above the wall.

 _Alright_ , Peter thought, sighing and resigning himself to a quiet wait. It didn't last particularly long.

"This is the song that never ends!" Deadpool burst out as if the song had been suddenly punched out of him. Except, he continued. "Yes it goes on and on my friend. Somebody staaaarted singing it not knowing what it was and they'll continue singing it forever just because-"

"Oh my god," Peter groaned, tipping his head to rest it on the concrete wall holding him.

"This is the song that never ends! Yes, it goes on and on my friend!"

The truly aggravating part of it all was the song actually helped. The kitten moved into the open, one little taco bit at a time, while Deadpool screamed the lyrics of the horrible song on repeat, by all evidence forgetting why he was sitting frozen on a rooftop holding up a taco until his arm shook like it was spasming.

A half hour – and seeming eternity in hell – later, Deadpool had the wet kitten standing on his leg and eating the taco out of his hand. It had stopped raining, the night quiet except for the rushing storm drains far below. Deadpool stood up and turned around, the small animal cradled against his tight abs.

"What are you going to do with it?" Peter asked, suddenly concerned for the tiny animal in the wild mercenary's huge hands. Deadpool stiffened, offense obvious despite his hidden face. Peter winced.

"Shit, sorry, that came out wrong," Peter apologized, rolling his aching body over the parapet. Except it'd come out exactly as he'd meant it and Deadpool clearly knew it.

"Thought I'd make a fancy throw pillow," Deadpool replied finally, looking down at the cat Peter could hear purring against his chest. "Gunna have to dry it off first," he commented before lifting the small animal above his head. "Her," he corrected.

"I'm a dick," Peter apologized. Deadpool jerked his head up, his costume not masking his surprise.

"Well golly that's more information than I expected on a first date. I'm Wade," the mercenary replied, dipping into a strange curtsy, one hand going out to pull a non-existent skirt out of the way, the other still cradling his new pet. He froze halfway back up, his legs still bent strangely, his gaping mouth visible beneath his tight mask. "I just realized such a beautiful thing my dick fell off," he breathed. Peter blinked heavily.

 _Well that's...a turn of phrase._

"Uh...you mean it's beautiful that your dick just fell off or -"

"Two options," Deadpool interrupted him, balancing the cat in one large hand as he punched two fingers out in a peace symbol toward Peter's face. "One," he counted off, lowering one finger to flip Peter off, "You can let me go down those stairs or two, your tight _tight_ ass can bum-lift me off of this roof like Dumbo Drop, 'cause this little kitty can't climb."

Deadpool flipped him off one more time, apparently just for kicks, before carefully cradling the kitten against his chest.

"Yeah, alright, I'll give it a lift," Peter offered and Deadpool bounced up and down on his heels. Probably not half the celebratory dance he'd do if the cat weren't in his arms, Peter reflected, but the kitten still looked jarred.

"Ooooh, I'm gunna be Leia. Oh, my, I must do my hair," Deadpool started, pulling his free hand up to tug at the sides of his mask. "Oh, wait, I don't have hair." Peter held out a hand to the mercenary.

"I meant I'd give the cat a ride," he corrected. He almost felt bad about it. Deadpool's whole body slumped in disappointment. He looked down at the huddled kitten in betrayal, his head snapping back and forth between Peter and the animal like they were in collusion.

"You are one lucky bug," he informed the cat and dropped the wet little thing into Peter's hands. "Don't steal my kitten," he ordered, his usually teasing voice coming out deep and gravelly again. Peter swallowed heavily, shoving back his arousal at the sound. He took the pet and without another word Deadpool walked straight off the roof. He landed with a sickening crunch but by the time Peter looked down the mercenary was casually walking away.

"Oy! Spiderman! This is private property!" someone shouted. Peter looked back to see a museum guard at the top of the roof access steps, talking into his radio. "This is Johan. We have an idiot on the roof, dressed like Spiderman."

Peter shot out a web to the building across from him and swung after the mercenary, heading uptown. The museum guard shouted in surprise at his first jump, then whooped. The cat yowled with his first swing and began clawing him with his second. Peter landed beside Deadpool and practically threw the panicking thing into the man's waiting hands.

"Thanks dude, give me a hand-grenade with the pin pulled," Peter complained, showing off the impressive tears in his Spider-suit.

"What – is that just Spandex?" Deadpool asked, derisively pinching the fabric on Peter's chest between two fingers. Peter sighed.

"No, but clearly I didn't plan ahead for baby animals," Peter replied, trying to stay light-hearted about the shredded fabric. The protective suits had cost him all of his savings but they'd been made for impact damage, specifically bullets – not tears. It was always a choice between the two, unless you could pay top dollar for the newest material science.

"Constant vigilance!" Deadpool reprimanded him, shaking a remarkably crooked finger at him.

"Did you – did you just break a finger to make a bad Harry Potter reference?" Peter asked, a bit disgusted by the mangled hand.

"Just the tip," Deadpool replied, lewdly pushing his broken finger in and out of the circle he made, his hand large enough to wrap fully around the kitten and still make the joke.

"Ugh," Peter pretended to gag. Deadpool cracked the bones back into place. They walked in silence for a moment, listening to the kitten mewling and Deadpool's boots squishing with every step.

"Are you...following me home?" Deadpool asked finally and Peter stopped short. He could feel his face reddening. Why the hell was he even walking with the guy? "'Cause that would be awesome," Deadpool added. "Except for all the bits of corpse."

"No..no, sorry. Just...habit," Peter stammered and threw out another web. "Later!" he jerked himself away, feeling his blush touch his ears.

"Toodles, SpiderDick!" Wade called after him.

~~/~~

 _AN: My first one-shot! I'm considering extending this to a full-length story, in which Spiderman develops a friendship with Deadpool and they have to struggle through issues of self esteem in disfigurement, ethical differences, mental illness, and obsession as their friendship deepens into something more. Let me know if you're interested, and what you think of this, their first meeting where Spiderman is forced to think of Deadpool as a person first and a mercenary second._


End file.
